Bell Let's Talk Day is Wednesday, Jan. 30, and Canadians from coast to coast will be encouraged to have conversations about mental health and help end the stigma associated with mental illness.
Abby Zawada, a first-year guard with the University of the Fraser Valley women's basketball program, wants to help spark that conversation. Abby has been battling depression for the better part of two years, and she's sharing her personal story here in order to encourage those struggling with mental illness, and to help end the stigma.
For more on Bell Let's Talk Day, click here.
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On Sept. 9, 2017, I was diagnosed with clinical depression.
About a week earlier, I had finally found the strength to go and tell my mom I needed to see a doctor. Deep down, I already knew that I had it. For the previous two months, I hadn't been feeling like myself. I'd been having trouble sleeping, and I was lacking motivation. Even the club basketball trips I went on, which I'd really looked forward to, were a struggle.
But actually hearing the words – "You have depression" – hurt a lot. I was ashamed of myself and I blamed myself for everything. The first person that I personally told said to me, "But you're happy?"
I wasn't. People don't realize how easy it is to hide what you're going through. At the beginning of my Grade 12 year, I went to school every day pretending to be happy. I put a smile on my face and I didn't tell anyone how I was feeling. Only two people that I went to school with knew about my depression; both were boys. I couldn't seem to find the way to tell my girlfriends. I hated the thought of telling anyone because I didn't want people to feel sorry for me, or feel pity towards me.
Sometimes during really bad days, I would have to go to the washroom in the middle of class because I had to cry. Not for any particular reason, I was just sad and frustrated all the time. That was one of the hardest things that I had to get through. My family and the doctors would ask me why I was feeling this way but I had no answer. So, I started to pretty much hate school. I never wanted to go because I would either feel tired, sad, or angry. And when I got home, I would go lay in my bed and sleep, listen to music, or watch TV. I started to hate social interaction. I didn't want to talk to people in class or in the hallways. At break time I stayed at my locker, and at lunch time I went to the gym to shoot. I stopped going out with my friends, I didn't want to go to basketball practices, and my personality changed. It was like I was an entirely different person.
Every negative comment I heard would make me cry, even if it was a joke, or someone trying to help me. I got agitated about every little thing, and then I would get sad when I could see people getting frustrated. I started to go see a therapist and do Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. I hated it and I was really short with my therapist. I thought that every question she asked me was so dumb and I didn't understand how it was supposed to help me with my thoughts and feelings. But, there was one thing she said to me that I'll always use to try and help people understand how my mind works. Someone could say 100 things to me. Ninety-nine of them are positive or complimentary, and one of them is negative. My brain will forget all of the good ones, and only focus on the one negative comment. It's really hard for people to understand this because they think that it's no big deal, but it actually takes a huge toll on me.
This had a huge effect in my basketball play. If I did one bad thing it would loom in my mind, and I was very negative about how I was playing. My confidence in my shot dropped and I began to second-guess myself. I actually ended up having to quit the fall training that I was doing because it was too much for me to handle. The one thing that I used to be able to use to blow off stress, now began to pile more stress on. After I quit that training, it helped a little bit but not that much. The people that I played with texted me and asked me if I was okay, and I lied. I was still too ashamed of my depression to tell people I was really close with.
Near the end of September, for about two or three weeks I was in such bad shape that I stopped eating. I would probably only have one meal a day. I still can't believe that happened to me because I love food and always seem to be hungry. But I was so depressed that I lost all interest in food. I stayed in my bed as much as I could, but I dreaded night time. All of my thoughts would pile into my head and all I could think about was how much I hated the world. I started to believe that no one cared about me and that nothing would ever make me happy again. I cried myself to sleep night after night, and struggled to get out of bed each morning. Luckily, I never had any suicidal thoughts, but I did think that if I were to die, things would be so much easier. My problems and all of the thoughts going on in my head would be gone. I wouldn't have to work so hard every day just to be happy.
Waking up with swollen eyes, and bags under my eyes started to become an everyday look for me. I started losing weight, friends and confidence. I started to take medication at a really small dose when I told my doctor that therapy wasn't going to work. I wasn't supposed to notice any change for three or four weeks.
A teacher at my school heard about my depression and I found out that they have it too. They had the courage to talk to me about their journey and were open to me asking questions. That teacher became my number one supporter. They helped me through everything. Finally, I had someone to talk to who understood everything I was going through. Everything they said I could relate to, and I was happy to have an adult in the school that I felt safe talking to.
And then I went through a breakup. A lot of people left my side. I finally got the strength to tell my friends about my depression. But my best friend, who already knew, left me after my breakup. If they knew what I was going through how could they leave me? I was already lonely and they were the only person I had, and they left. I felt broken. I started to get teased at school and through social media. I saw messages where I was called pyscho because of the outbursts that I had with my ex. It made me really angry because all of these people had no clue what I was feeling, and saying these hurtful things about me was making it worse. I almost went to the administration about it, but I decided to wait a bit longer, and eventually it died down. I started hanging out with all my friends again and it made me regret not telling them about my depression earlier. I had fun whenever I hung out with them and they helped me through everything at school.
My medication started to work and I could feel myself getting better step by step. We upped my dosage more, and I stopped isolating myself from my family and friends. I wasn't afraid to show my face at school or at parties. I got my confidence back, and I am no longer ashamed. I truly believe that people that suffer from mental illnesses are stronger because they have to go through so much more pain than everyone else.
Not being able to understand what's going on in your mind is the scariest thing I have ever been through. My battle with depression has taught me how to deal with my problems, how to handle my emotions, and how to love myself. My parents never judged me and they always tried their hardest to understand what I go through. I couldn't have gotten through any of this without their help. My sister Jessica was living in Abbotsford at the time, attending UFV and playing for the Cascades women's basketball team, but she texted and called me constantly to make sure I was doing okay.
I'm finally back to the girl that I used to be, but I am stronger and smarter now. If I had the choice, I would choose having depression and going through this journey every time. I really did find myself through my battle with depression. I still take my medication every day, and I still have outbursts once in a while, but I have come a very long way.
If I had never reached out to my mom and told her how I was feeling, then I would've just kept putting myself through hell. Talking to someone about how you're feeling is the best thing to do for yourself. It can be extremely hard, and the journey to get better can seem like a lifetime, but it is worth it.
The reason I'm sharing my personal story is because I want people to know that so many struggle with mental illnesses. And while it may feel incredibly difficult to reach out for help, help is accessible. I personally want everyone to know that no matter who you are, I will 100% try my best to help you, and I will always be here to listen and support you. If you're hiding your pain, you're hurting yourself.
Six months ago, I got a tattoo of a lotus flower on the back of my neck. It represents strength – growing through muddy waters and blooming at the top. I feel as if I have done this. I went through all of my pain to finally be able to be the strongest I've ever felt.
Thank you to everyone that have supported me through all of this, and thanks to everyone that reads this. Mental illnesses shouldn't be something to hide or be ashamed of, and I think that everyone still needs to be more educated about it. #endthestigma
